


In Taller Order

by the1andonlyofo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:35:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the1andonlyofo/pseuds/the1andonlyofo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Animagus Nolan Blackwell joins the ranks of the up-and-coming Lord Voldemort and gets more involved than he ever thought possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> This is not an entirely new concept of mine. Over a year ago (I had originally intended to release this on the one year mark, but never got around to it), I wrote a brief, Mary Sue-ish one shot called In Tall Order. It featured Voldemort's most loyal and trusted follower, an unnamed female Death Eater of my invention. She was an animagus who turned into a giraffe and was based off of a conversation I had with a friend of mine.
> 
> So why revisit this concept? I'm not particularly pleased with the original, for one. It just wasn't well planned. People familiar with my other stories know that I tend to do a lot of research to keep things as canon as my alterations will allow. One thing I found out in during some Harry Potter related web browsing was that one doesn't choose their animagus form. It makes sense if you think about. Why would you want to turn into a rat (I'm looking at you Peter Pettigrew)? Wouldn't you wanna be something badass? So a person's animagus form represents their inner being. That being said, in order for someone to become a giraffe they'd have to be giraffe-ish. That's how Nolan was born.
> 
> Firstly, some basics on giraffes:
> 
> 1\. Super tall (duh)
> 
> 2\. Fairly quiet. (Can you tell me off the top of your head what sound they make?)
> 
> 3\. Spend a lot of time keeping watch for predators
> 
> I also found a personality test that characterizes people as animals and found some interesting traits for people considered giraffes.
> 
> 1\. Again, tall
> 
> 2\. Graceful, confident, and elegant
> 
> 3\. Somewhat self-conscious about their height, but never ashamed of it
> 
> 4\. Aloof in nature, a sort of by-product of their height that only draws more attention to it
> 
> 5\. Not overly intelligent, since they've never needed to use their intelligence to get ahead in life, but can display a sharp wit when necessary
> 
> So in a nutshell, Nolan's character design incorporates traits from both actual giraffes and human "giraffes." Another thing that anyone familiar with my work also knows that I'm all about slash…so naturally Nolan's gay. Interestingly enough, there's a study showing that up to 94% of observed giraffe mountings were male on male, making Nolan's sexual orientation a possible contributing factor to his animagus form. Alright, that's enough background stuff.

"Nolan?" Lucius Malfoy inquired as he entered Riddle House.

The tall man he'd addressed turned, his wavy strawberry blonde swinging against his shoulders as he moved. A smile lit up his face at the sight of the blonde aristocrat.

"It is you," Lucius exclaimed, pulling Nolan into a friendly embrace. "I'll be damned! I'd heard a new member was joining our ranks, but I never would have guessed."

Lucius had been a second year when Nolan Blackwell had begun his Hogwarts career. He was quiet and aloof in manner, towering over his peers even at eleven. Upon being sorted into Slytherin, he and Lucius had become fast friends.

"How are you?" Lucius said.

"I'm well, Lucius," Nolan replied with a polite nod.

Lucius smiled, admiring his old friend. The young man looked well indeed. He was as tall as ever, standing a good head above Lucius. He was well-dressed and clean-shaven. His strawberry blonde locks fell in glossy waves just below his shoulders and his deep green eyes sparkled. He was a handsome man, one whom women died to be close to, but Nolan had never shared their admiration. At the age of fifteen, he'd come out as gay to Lucius and their first year companion, Severus Snape. The two barely batted an eyelash at Nolan's proclamation. The two of them, Lucius in particular, had suspected so for some time.

"I'm glad you've decided to join us," Lucius said with a smile.

"Why wouldn't I?" Nolan replied with a smirk.

It had taken him a bit longer to in the ranks of the up-and-coming dark wizard Voldemort than Lucius, but that was due to a family tragedy. He'd intended to join right after school, as Lucius had, but his mother had become sick, passing away recently. The Blackwells, much like the Malfoys, were a wealthy wizard family that took great pride in their pure blood status. Nolan's father had died in Azkaban years ago, imprisoned for torturing and killing Muggles.

"The Dark Lord will see you now."

Bellatrix Lestrange entered the atrium of the manor, fixing Nolan with a distasteful look. She didn't approve of Nolan's choice in sexual partners. As the only child of a noble Pureblood family, he was destroying the potent magical bloodline by choosing not to reproduce, at least in her eyes. With the exception of a handful of older witches and wizards, most people didn't share her thoughts.

"I'm surprised he'll even take you," she sneered up at him. "Does he know what you are?"

"I'm sure it will be of no great concern to him," Nolan retorted. "As far as I know, he's not recruiting followers based on sexual orientation."

Bellatrix snorted and left the manor, her head held high. Lucius chuckled as the pair headed down the hall in the direction Bellatrix had come from.

"If she wasn't Narcissa's sister, I would have nothing to do with the woman," he said. "She's absolutely mad."

"How is Narcissa?" Nolan asked.

"Very well," Lucius replied with a smile. "We are to be married sometime next year."

"Congratulations, my friend," Nolan said.

The pair stopped outside a door. Nolan swallowed and took a deep breath.

"You'll be fine," Lucius reassured. "Just be sure to mind your manners."

Nolan nodded and entered the room. Most of the room was dark, the only light coming from the large fireplace.

"You must be Nolan," the Dark Lord said, his body hidden by the back of the winged armchair he sat in, facing the fire.

"Yes, sir," Nolan confirmed, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

The presence of this man, even though he wasn't visible, was making Nolan more nervous than he'd ever been in his life. Just that voice alone did something to him that he couldn't explain. Nolan could fell the power that radiated from the man in the armchair. He'd never encountered a stronger magical signature, except maybe from Albus Dumbledore.

"Come," Voldemort invited, extending a pale, long-fingered hand toward the other chair. "Sit. Let us talk."

Nolan slowly approached the fire, his heart hammering behind his ribs as he tried to prepare himself to come face to face with the man in the chair. He sat down, crossing his long legs, and turned to Voldemort. He'd heard that the man was nearly fifty, but he looked much younger. His bloodshot blue eyes were the only thing that betrayed his age, gleaming with knowledge and wisdom that far surpassed Nolan's. His pale skin was delicate looking and nearly transparent, the superficial veins near his temples visible beneath it. His dark hair was neatly parted to the side and just brushed the tops of his ears.

"Nolan Blackwell," Voldemort said, slowly pronouncing each syllable in an almost seductive manner that made Nolan even more nervous. "I'm familiar with your father. He was a great man."

"Indeed he was, sir," Nolan agreed, the praise of his father putting him at ease. "He would have no doubt been a supporter of you were he still alive."

"Yes," Voldemort agreed. "Such a shame that he died the way he did, imprisoned for such a noble cause. I imagine he'd be very proud to know that you've decided to join our ranks."

"Yes, I suppose he would," Nolan said. "Mum was. She died knowing I would go on to do great things for the advancement of our race."

"Well, you mustn't disappoint her," Voldemort replied with a smirk. "Now you and Lucius have been friends since you were young?"

"Yes, sir," Nolan answered. "Ever since my first day at Hogwarts. He's a year older than me."

"Excellent," Voldemort said. "Lucius has great potential. The Malfoys are a powerful family, as are the Blackwells."

Nolan nodded in agreement.

"He also tells me you have a special talent. What is it it?"

"Oh that!" Nolan exclaimed after a moment of confusion. "I'm an Animagus."

Nolan had begun the process at thirteen, soon after learning about them in class. He'd struggled for several years, finally able to complete it during his six year.

"Really?" Voldemort said with genuine interest. "Show me."

"We'd have to go outside," he replied. "The ceilings aren't high enough."

"Very well," said Voldemort.

He stood and Nolan realized that the Dark Lord was also rather tall, just a few inches shorter than Nolan himself. They headed out the back door into the darkened gardens. Nolan took a few steps back before changing. Nolan looked down at the Dark Lord from his new altitude of about nineteen feet. A brief laugh escaped Voldemort's lips, genuine delight and amusement showing on his face as he looked up at the giraffe that stood before him.

"Not horribly practical," he chuckled. "But an interesting creature nonetheless."

Nolan walked towards Voldemort, lowering his head to the Dark Lord's level. Voldemort reached out a hand and gently stroked Nolan between his large green eyes, a striking color against the reddish splotched tawny fur.

"You're an interesting man, Nolan Blackwell," Voldemort said, removing his hand as Nolan changed back. "I'd like to offer you a place in my army."

"I'd be honored to have it," Nolan said with a slight bow.

"Excellent," Voldemort smirked. "Give me your arm."

Nolan extended his left forearm, pulling back his sleeve as he did. Voldemort took hold of it with one hand and held his wand to the flesh with his other. Nolan hissed at the burning sensation and watched as the skull and snake blossomed around the wand's tip.

"Welcome aboard," Voldemort said, releasing Nolan's arm.

"Thank you," Nolan replied with a smile.

…

"So how'd it go?" Lucius asked as they arrived at Malfoy Manor later that night.

"Very well," Nolan said. "He told me I was interesting."

"A complement from the Dark Lord?" Lucius exclaimed, his eyes widening. "That's a rare gift, my friend. You must have left one hell of an impression."

"I suppose so," Nolan said.


	2. Sirenum Scopuli

Nolan excelled as a Death Eater. Over the course of the next six months he rose higher in the Dark Lord's ranks than anyone ever had, with the exception of Bellatrix. She was highly displeased with this turn of events. She never thought he'd be accepted as a Death Eater, let alone rival her own standing with the Dark Lord. Voldemort was sending him out on important missions and a large number of Order of the Phoenix members had died by his wand. The bounty on his head skyrocketed, becoming not much less than his master's. This all infuriated Bellatrix further.

The Death Eaters sat at the long table in the dining room of Riddle House, Voldemort at its head with Nolan seated at his immediate right. Bellatrix, seated beside her husband, three seats away from the Dark Lord on the opposite side of the table, was seething silently in her seat, throwing nasty glances at Nolan every few minutes.

"It has come to my attention that the Order of the Phoenix may know the whereabouts of this house," Voldemort said, his voice immediately silencing all who were talking. "I require a new hiding place immediately."

Bellatrix spoke up without hesitation.

"My lord…" she began.

"Bella, my dear, while I appreciate your enthusiasm, I must decline," Voldemort interrupted. "Where did you plan on taking me? Your family home? Too obvious."

Bellatrix slumped in her chair, disappointed. It was silent for a moment, everyone trying to avoid the Dark Lord's gaze.

"No one?" Voldemort prompted. "No suggestions?"

Nolan spoke suddenly, shocking a majority of the people in attendance. The tall Death Eater wasn't one to speak often.

"I know of a place," he said.

"Where?" Voldemort inquired.

Bellatrix frowned, narrowing her eyes at Nolan.

"My family owns a vacation home on the shores of the North Sea," Nolan explained. "It's in a secluded location and heavily warded. My father didn't like to be disturbed and you know how he felt about Muggles."

"I see," Voldemort replied, tilting his head in contemplation. "Does anyone know of it?"

"Just my family," Nolan answered. "And I'm the only one left."

"Excellent!" Voldemort exclaimed, standing. "We leave within the hour. I'll require a personal guard in this new location and seeing as it's your family home, it only seems fit you should accompany me."

"I'd be honored, my Lord," Nolan agreed, trying desperately to hide his nervousness.

Voldemort briefly touched Nolan's shoulder in a friendly gesture. Bellatrix shot Nolan the cruelest glare she could muster. The corner of Nolan's mouth twitched into a smirk at the sight of it. The Death Eaters were dispersing as Voldemort left to make the necessary preparations for his departure.

"This is a bold move, my friend," Lucius whispered. "Living so closely to the Dark Lord. Be careful."

"I can handle myself," Nolan reassured. "I'll be fine."

Nolan wasn't sure who he was trying harder to convince, Lucius or himself.

…

An hour later, Voldemort and Nolan apparated into a dark copse of trees. The sounds of the sea were audible close by. Nolan led the Dark Lord out of the trees and pointed ahead. What appeared to be a small, rundown shack was perched atop a cliff overlooking the sea.

"That's it?" Voldemort asked in disbelief. "I thought you said this was a vacation home?"

"Don't always trust your first impressions, my Lord," Nolan said, leading the way to shack.

As they approached what appeared to be the remains of a wooden fence, the pair felt the powerful magic energy given off by the wards. They felt a chilling sensation, as though they'd been dunked into a tub of ice water, as they passed through. On the other side, the shack had been replaced by a large manor. A name was carved above the doorway in Latin: Sirenum Scopuli.

"Rocks of the sirens," Nolan translated. "It's the islands the sirens were said to dwell on, mythical creatures whose songs drove Muggle sailors to dash their ships upon the rocks. They fell in love with the monsters, willing to risk life and limb just to be near them."

"Interesting," Voldemort said, surveying his surroundings. "They must have been very foolish."

"They say people do foolish things when they're in love," Nolan said absent mindedly. "And they were Muggles after all."

"Very true," Voldemort agreed. "But our kind is prone to foolish behavior as well."

Nolan looked at the Dark Lord in disbelief. Had he compared their kind to  _Muggles_? Voldemort was avoiding his gaze, whether purposefully or not, Nolan couldn't tell. He decided it would be wise not to question the comment. He took out his wand and tapped the large front doors, which swung open to reveal a large atrium. The marble floors were sparkling and not a single speck of dust was visible on any surface.

"When's the last time anyone was here?" the Dark Lord asked.

"Before my father was imprisoned," Nolan replied.

Before Voldemort could comment on the home's pristine condition, a house elf appeared from another room.

"Master Nolan," he greeted in a gravelly voice, bowing low. "How good to see you after so long."

"Rambler," Nolan said. "This is Lord Voldemort. He will be staying here with me for a while."

"Rambler has heard of you, sir," the elf said, slowly approaching Voldemort. "Doing great things, Rambler hears. Killing Muggles and Mudbloods, Rambler hears."

"Yes," Voldemort confirmed, raising an eyebrow at the creature. "That would be me."

"It is an honor to serve such a great wizard," Rambler said with a deep bow.

"Alright, Rambler, that's enough," Nolan ordered, shooing the elf away. "Go make yourself useful."

"Yes, sir," he replied. "Rambler will return to his duties."

"Father couldn't have picked a more suiting name," Nolan commented. "The damn creature never shuts up."

"I've found house elves to be rather annoying creatures," Voldemort admitted.

"As do I," Nolan agreed. "But he keeps the house in order."

"Indeed," Voldemort said, once again taking in the spotless quality of the house.

Nolan led him upstairs and entered the large master bedroom. The mahogany four poster bed was draped in deep forest green and silver.

"This is where you'll be staying, my lord," Nolan explained. "The bathroom's just through there."

"I truly appreciate your hospitality, Nolan," Voldemort practically purred. "I can promise you won't regret this decision."

"It's nothing, sir," Nolan assured. "I'm merely doing my duty as your loyal follower."

The Dark Lord had a way of making Nolan nervous the way no person ever had before. His heart hammered in his chest as he tried to maintain his composure.

"Well I'll leave you to make yourself at home," Nolan said. "Good night, my lord."

"Good night, Nolan," Voldemort replied.

Nolan nodded before leaving and hurrying down the hall to his own room. As he fell backwards onto his bed, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. What had he gotten himself into?


	3. Siren Song

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do…

- _Wicked Game,_ HIM

As the weeks wore on, Nolan became more accustomed to the Dark Lord's presence. He still became somewhat nervous when he was addressed by the powerful wizard, but he was beginning to get his emotions in check. The pair generally left each other to their own devices, occasionally making small talk at meals or to break the extended periods of silence that occurred when they occupied the same room. Meetings with the other Death Eaters were still occurring at the new location.

"Is everything going alright?" a concerned Lucius asked Nolan after a meeting. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Lucius," Nolan reassured. "Everything's going fine. We tend to give each other a wide berth. Don't worry about me."

"You're sure?" Lucius pressed.

"Yes, Lucius!" Nolan reiterated. "Merlin's beard, when did you become my mother?"

"Just looking out for you," Lucius chuckled, patting Nolan on the back. "You're like the brother I never had."

"I appreciate that," Nolan said. "But I promise you I'm fine. Honestly, what are you so worried will happen?"

"I honestly have no idea," Lucius admitted with a shrug.

…

It took Nolan a moment to even look up from the book he was reading when the Dark Lord suddenly and unexpectedly sat down on the drawing room sofa beside him. There had been a meeting earlier in the evening and Voldemort was still going over some last minute plans with Bellatrix

"Good evening, sir," Nolan said. "I take it things went well with Bellatrix?"

"Indeed they did," he replied. "But she can be quite a handful at times."

"I've noticed," Nolan agreed.

"I bet you have," the Dark Lord chuckled. "She doesn't seem to care for you at all."

"Forgive me for saying I'm not horribly fond of her either," Nolan muttered.

"What's the story with you two?" Voldemort inquired. "You're two of my most loyal followers and share the same views yet I'd worry what would happen if you were left alone together. Why?"

"Let's just say she doesn't approve of certain aspects of my personal life," Nolan replied, avoiding the Dark Lord's curious stares.

He hoped that that would be enough, but when he finally looked over at Voldemort, the dark wizard was staring at him with unsatisfied curiosity.

"Such as?" the Dark Lord prompted.

Nolan flushed bright red. He was incredibly uncomfortable discussing this with Voldemort.

"Well go on, Nolan," Voldemort urged. "No need to be bashful."

"I," Nolan started. "I'm gay."

Nolan immediately looked away, his ears growing hot.

"I suspected as much," the Dark Lord admitted. "But why should that be any of her concern?"

"She thinks I'm wasting the Blackwell bloodline," Nolan explained. "By not taking a wife, I'm not producing an heir. She's disgusted that I'm wasting pure blood."

"It could be worse," Voldemort said. "At least your blood line hasn't been tainted."

Nolan curiously glanced at Voldemort. There seemed to be more behind his statement, but he decided it would be best not to push. If the Dark Lord wished to tell him he would.

"And I also have no children," Voldemort admitted. "I'm descended from Salazar Slytherin himself. Blood doesn't get more potent than that."

"Your father must have been a great wizard," Nolan commented. "I imagine he'd be very proud of you and everything you're setting out to accomplish."

Nolan noticed he'd hit a nerve when the Dark Lord fixed him with an unreadable glare.

"I'm sorry," Nolan quickly apologized. "Did I say something wrong?"

The Dark Lord looked away from Nolan and stared into the fire. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes. Voldemort seemed to be grappling internally with something. He finally turned to Nolan.

"Can I trust you with something?" he asked. "It must  _never_ be repeated to anyone. I've shared this information with no one, not even Bellatrix, though I suspect Dumbledore may know."

"Yes, my lord," Nolan promised, taken aback by the Dark Lord's sudden openness. "You have my word."

Voldemort turned away again, clasping his hands together and looking at the floor.

"My father was a Muggle," he sighed.

Nolan's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't have heard that right! Lord Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard of all time, who despised Muggles, was claiming to be the son of one.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. That's the name I was given at birth, the name I was known by at Hogwarts," he explained, still avoiding Nolan's eyes. "Tom Riddle, my father, was a wealthy Muggle from Little Hangleton. You were in his house just a few weeks ago. My mother, Merope Gaunt, was a witch who lived in a shack just outside Little Hangleton with her father and brother. She fell in love with my filthy Muggle father and the two eloped. She no doubt had him under an enchantment of some sort because he left her before I was born. She gave birth to me in a Muggle orphanage before dying, leaving me to be raised there."

Nolan was speechless. He was shocked at this declaration, but more shocked that Voldemort had admitted it to him. He took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to continue, and scooted closer. He took the Dark Lord's pale hands in his own, causing the man to finally meet his eyes.

"Know that I think no less of you," Nolan admitted truthfully. "You're still a great wizard, despite who your parents were. If anything, you have more of a reason to hate Muggles because of this. And you're still descended from Slytherin. That's got to count for something."

A weak smile graced Voldemort's lips.

"Thank you, Nolan," he said, gently squeezing Nolan's hands. "That…that means a lot to me."

Nolan blushed again and looked away. He felt Voldemort pull his hand from Nolan's grasp, only to fell it gently grasp his chin and bring his face to meet Voldemort's. Nolan stared into Voldemort's eyes for a few moments, trying to assess what he was thinking, when he was pulled into a kiss. Nolan froze for a moment, the intimate contact taking him by surprise, but before he knew it he'd leaned into the kiss, opening his mouth when he was prompted to. This was dangerous and he knew he should stop. This man could easily destroy him, but in this moment Nolan could care less about the consequences. Despite the risks, something felt right. He felt hands at his waist, drawing him closer, followed by the familiar feeling of disapparation. Seconds later he was being pushed back into the green comforter of the master bed.

Long fingers undid the buttons of his shirt and then danced across his bare chest, pausing to tweak a nipple as they passed. He removed his own shirt and Nolan hesitantly ran a hand along the nearly hairless torso beneath. Voldemort lowered his head to Nolan's chest, flicking a nipple with his tongue. Nolan felt hands at his belt, hissing as those long fingers wrapped around his erection once his pants were removed. It had been a long time since he'd been touched in such a manner. He moaned as Voldemort took him into his mouth. He buried his fingers in Voldemort's dark hair and began to raise his hips, only to have them forced back onto the bed. A finger prodded at his entrance. Voldemort smirked around Nolan's erection as the animagus cried out. He thrust with his finger, adding another after several minutes. Nolan sighed as Voldemort pulled away and rose to his knees. He lubricated both Nolan and himself with a flick of his wand before pushing Nolan's knees to his chest. Slowly he slid into the taller man and picked up a steady rhythm, Nolan moaning wantonly beneath him. He leaned forward, placing one of Nolan's long legs over his shoulder and buried his fingers in the reddish hair splayed around Nolan's head. Voldemort captured Nolan's brilliant green eyes and gazed into them. Nolan let his guard down and felt the other's presence in his mind. The experience was incredibly intimate, greatly adding to that of the physical act they were engaged in. The sensation of their mingled consciousness quickly began to overwhelm Nolan and Voldemort knew it.

"Come for me, Nolan," he whispered, never breaking the eye contact.

Nolan was more than happy to comply. He arched his back, breaking the eye contact and releasing between their intertwined bodies. Voldemort followed him over the brink, riding out the waves of Nolan's pleasure through the remains of the mental connection. He pulled out, spelling the pair of them clean, and collapsed on the bed beside Nolan. As Nolan's wits returned to him he realized who he'd just given his body to. He sat up with the intention of leaving, but Voldemort grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the bed.

"Even I can't be as heartless as to kick you out of the bed after  _that,_ " Voldemort reassured, wriggling under the covers and prompting Nolan to do the same.

Nolan lay back against the pillows and jumped slightly as Voldemort placed his head on Nolan's chest. Nolan didn't speak; he was unsure as to what he'd even say. He began to absentmindedly stroke Voldemort's hair and before long drifted off to sleep.

…

Nolan watched the sun rise over the North Sea, painting the sky in reds and oranges. We waded in the shallows, the small waves lapping against his hooves. He found it calming to be in his animagus form when something was bothering him, the simpler feelings of the animal he became dulled his sharper human emotions. He'd awoken some time ago in a bit of a stupor. He was sore and noticed that he was lying in a bed other than his own, the bed that his parents had slept in when they'd come here during his youth. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw the pale skin of Voldemort's back. He lay there for a moment, watching the other man sleep. He looked so vulnerable in that moment, not the powerful wizard whose very name was so feared that none dared to speak it, but just a man. He was still human, even though at times it didn't seem so. Nolan realized he'd seen a side of this man that no other person had ever seen, at least not in a very long time, and this knowledge terrified him. He dreaded the moment when Voldemort awoke and Nolan would be forced to confront the events of the previous night. He got out of bed, careful not to wake the other, and was now in his current position, a giraffe completely out of place in the surf.

As he stood, gently pawing at the stones beneath the water, he ran through the night's events. Voldemort had been vulnerable in that moment and had needed the reassurance that he was still important, despite everything. He'd reached out to Nolan, and Nolan had accepted. What would happen next? Where did they go from here? Was last night a one-time deal, something meant to be forgotten once the sun rose? For some reason, the thought that it was hurt Nolan. Something had clicked in place for him last night. Perhaps he'd been so nervous around Voldemort because he'd been attracted to him this entire time. He knew how dangerous it could be to get close to this man, but was he willing to take the risks? Was it this danger that he found so alluring?

"Now this is an odd sight," he heard Voldemort say.

He turned to see the object of his contemplation coming down the beach, his dark hair being ruffled by the breeze. He stood beside Nolan.

"I know what you're thinking," Voldemort asserted. "I don't need to use Occlumency to know that. You're thinking about last night and wondering what happens now."

Nolan turned his head away, bracing himself for the impact of the words to come. Voldemort gently placed his hand on Nolan's leg.

"I felt it too," he admitted. "When our minds merged. I can't say what it was exactly, just a feeling of rightness, of belonging."

Nolan turned to look down at him, lowering his head to Voldemort's level. Voldemort placed a hand on his cheek.

"I don't know anything about these sorts of things, I've never felt them before," Voldemort explained. "But be patient with me. I promise I'll try."

The corner of Voldemort's mouth twitched upward.

"And I will warn you," he smirked. "That I can be an insufferable asshole at times. It's just my nature."

Nolan morphed back into a human, shivering slightly as his nude body was exposed to the wind.

"I'll take my chances," Nolan replied, putting his hand over Voldemort's. "What's life without a little risk?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I know Voldemort is supposedly incapable of love, but I feel like it's not so much that he's not able love as he's just never experienced it and therefore doesn't know how to express it. The fact that he was conceived via love potion also has nothing to do with it. Being raised in an orphanage made him like that. J.K Rowling herself even said so in an interview: "It [conception via love potion] was a symbolic way of showing that he came from a loveless union - but of course, everything would have changed if Merope had survived and raised him herself and loved him."


	4. The Malfoy Wedding

_My universe will never be the same._

_I'm glad you came._

_-Glad You Came,_ The Wanted

Weeks became months and Voldemort remained in hiding. Meetings continued as usual at Sirenum Scopuli, but the nature of Nolan's relationship with the Dark Lord remained a closely guarded secret.

"What about Lucius?" Nolan asked as he lay beside Voldemort. "He's my best friend."

"Yes, but he's also engaged to Bellatrix's sister and you know how irrational Bella can be," Voldemort observed, tracing lazy circles along Nolan's bare back. "I just think it's best if we lay low for a while."

"How long is a while, V?" Nolan asked, sitting up in bed. "This has been going on for nearly five months now!"

"I have many enemies, Nolan," Voldemort replied. "If a Death Eater is captured by the Order and interrogated, I'd prefer if this didn't reach them. You've become perhaps my greatest weakness."

Nolan drew away from the other man, the hurt evident in his eyes.

"So that's it then?" he accused. "I should've known better. You don't care for anyone, but yourself. What would it do to your reputation if the other side caught wind of your male lover? The fearsome Lord Voldemort, a fag! I'm just some liability to you."

Nolan got out of bed, but Voldemort grabbed his arm.

"How dare you, Nolan Blackwell," Voldemort hissed. "How dare you think that way?"

Nolan narrowed his eyes. He began to pull away, put Voldemort pulled him back.

"I don't want the Order to know about us because I don't want them to target you, to hurt you, to take you away," Voldemort corrected. "And if they took you I'd exhaust all my resources to get you back. I've become rather fond of you, Mr. Blackwell. I'd like to keep you around."

Nolan stared hard at the man on the bed, trying to gauge the truthfulness of what he said. Voldemort nervously ran his hand through his hair. He wasn't good with emotions-he'd thought himself incapable of feeling most of them for decades.

"Come back to bed, Nolan," Voldemort pleaded. "Please?"

Nolan sighed and smiled weakly before climbing back into bed. He rolled onto his side, placing his head on Voldemort's shoulder.

"Why won't you believe me?" Voldemort asked, stroking Nolan's hair.

"I've seen you in action," Nolan replied. "I've been a part of your inner circle from the start. I've watched you lie and deceive and cheat to get what you want. Part of me wonders what makes me different from the countless people you've fucked over."

"So you're an expert on my behavior now?" Voldemort observed, a trace of amusement in his voice. "Tell me then, what would happen to someone who spoke to me in such a way?"

"They'd be dead," Nolan said.

"And are you?" Voldemort asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No," Nolan answered, suddenly feeling slightly foolish.

"Exactly," Voldemort confirmed. "You know the consequences of such things. You feel that you're no different than everyone else, yet you continue to do them. You know I won't hurt you, otherwise you wouldn't do them."

"I suppose you're right," Nolan muttered.

"I'm always right," Voldemort smirked. "The sooner you know that the better."

Nolan smiled and kissed the Dark Lord fiercely.

"Merlin, what have you turned me into?" Voldemort chuckled.

…

"Congratulations," Nolan said, pulling Lucius into his arms and tucking the blonde man's head under his chin.

He released Lucius and kissed Narcissa on the cheek. Hundreds of people from throughout the wizarding community were gathered at Malfoy Manor to celebrate the marriage of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black.

"Thank you, Nolan," Lucius replied, playfully punching Nolan in the shoulder. "So when are you going to find yourself a nice guy and settle down?"

Nolan choked on his drink. He chuckled nervously before stealing a quick glance towards Voldemort. The Dark Lord looked incredibly handsome in dark blue dress robes. He was chatting animatedly with Lucius's father, Abraxas.

"Hmm," Nolan mumbled, willing himself not to look back at his lover.

"Something you're not telling me?" Lucius inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"What? No!" Nolan stammered, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"You're hiding something," Lucius whispered, drawing nearer to Nolan. "We've been friends for years. I know these things."

Nolan began to open and close his mouth repeatedly, a string of unintelligible syllables leaving his lips.

"Who is he?" Lucius pushed.

"I can't tell," Nolan finally managed. "I would if I could."

"Why can't you tell me?" Lucius asked, looking slightly offended.

"I just can't," Nolan said as he turned to disappear into the crowd.

He wandered off into a remote part of the labyrinthine gardens and flopped down onto a stone bench. He put his head in his hands and sighed. This secret relationship was becoming rather taxing.

"You look much more handsome when you smile, love," Voldemort purred.

Nolan looked up at the man standing before him.

"Lucius knows," Nolan told him. "Well, not about you specifically. He knows I'm seeing someone."

"I see," Voldemort said in response, sitting down beside Nolan.

He reached over and began to play with Nolan's hair. Nolan put his head in Voldemort's lap.

"The time will come when we won't have to hide this," Voldemort reassured. "A day will come when this constant threat no longer looms above us and we can live in the open. I'll give you the world, my love."

"That day can't come soon enough," Nolan sighed.

They sat there quietly for a few minutes, Nolan's eyes closed as long delicate fingers intertwined with his hair. The sounds of distant voices drifted towards them from the manor. It was Voldemort who broke the silence.

"Green is very becoming on you," he said, his fingers moving to the front of Nolan's emerald robes. "It brings out your eyes."

Nolan sat up, bringing his lips to Voldemort's and shifting into his lap. The Dark Lord moaned softly as the man in his lap ground against his growing arousal. He undid a few buttons of Nolan's shirt and brought his lips to a hardening nipple. Occupied as they were, neither of them heard her approach until it was too late.

"You're disgusting, Blackwell," Bellatrix spat. "How dare you disgrace the day of my sister's wedding with your perversions! And in her home as well!"

Nolan's position obscured Voldemort from her view. The Animagus gaped at her, wide-eyed and frozen in shock, unsure of how to proceed.

"If only the Dark Lord could see you now," Bellatrix continued. "What would he think of his precious Nolan then?"

Voldemort couldn't contain the laughter that burst forth from his lips.

"My precious Nolan indeed," Voldemort chuckled, peering around his lover.

The look on Bellatrix's face was priceless. She couldn't seem to figure out what emotion to convey as something in her mind just shattered. Tears welled in her eyes as she turned and ran from the sight before her.

Voldemort's amusement vanished immediately.

"Damn!" he exclaimed, shoving Nolan off of him.

Without another word, he'd pulled out his wand and given chase.

Nolan stood, groaning in frustration. He stood there for a moment before shifting and following the others. Even in his animal form, he was unable to catch up with them before they reached the crowded garden terrace. Silence had fallen over the guests at the appearance of a distraught Bellatrix pursued by a furious Dark Lord.

"Bella!" Narcissa called, running to her sister. "Bella, dear, what's happened?"

"I saw them," Bellatrix whispered.

"Saw who?" Narcissa asked. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The Dark Lord and…and… _him_!"

She pointed at the giraffe that had just emerged from the foliage. He shifted back into his human form and took a hesitant step towards Voldemort. His eyes locked with Lucius's, the pale grey orbs widening as he made the connection.

"I should've known," he said.

"Known what, Lucius?" Narcissa asked.

A steady murmur rose up in the crowd as they connected the dots themselves- a shaken Bellatrix, a furious Dark Lord, an edgy Nolan, and the disheveled appearance of both men.

Nolan's heart was pounding. He hadn't wanted things to happen like this. Everyone was staring, the shock evident on their faces. He was struggling to keep his composure. He looked back to Lucius, who started to walk toward him, but Voldemort got there first.

"I've got you," he whispered, pulling Nolan into his arms.

Nolan let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He was worried Voldemort would deny the whole thing when confronted. He was no doubt furious at being exposed in such a way and Bellatrix would be punished for it later. Lucius put a hand on Nolan's shoulder, a concerned look on his face.

"It's alright, Lucius," Nolan reassured.

Lucius gave Nolan a skeptical look, but didn't press the matter. It would be unwise to question the situation in the presence of the Dark Lord. There'd be time to do so later.

"I think we've had enough excitement for one night," Voldemort declared, the anger evident in his voice. "I think you'll agree, Nolan."

"Yes," Nolan replied. "Let's go."

"Don't think we're through," Voldemort hissed, pointing at Bellatrix.

Bellatrix cringed at the threat. Nolan pulled closer to Voldemort and the pair disapparated.

…

Bellatrix cried out, writhing in pain as another spell was aimed at her.

"Let this be a reminder to all of you," Voldemort said, a severe tone to his voice. "My business is mine and mine alone."

He let up on the curse. Bellatrix looked pleadingly up at him, but Voldemort sneered down at her and hit her again. Nolan stood stoic nearby, but he felt Lucius cringe beside him. The fear coming off of the assembled Death Eaters was practically tangible.

"Go!" Voldemort ordered his followers. "Leave me!"

No one lingered long. Nolan moved to Voldemort's side.

"Go on, Nolan," Voldemort said softly. "I'll join you shortly. I'm not finished here."

He looked down at Bellatrix, crumpled and shaking at his feet. Nolan nodded and exited the room. Lucius was the only one in the foyer. The others had been all too eager to leave the seaside manor.

"You should have told me," Lucius said.

"You know I couldn't," Nolan replied.

"This is dangerous, Nolan. You should know that. You know him better than anyone."

"Exactly. I've seen a side of him that no one else will ever see. He's not always an easy man to love, but I do."

Lucius sighed and squeezed Nolan's shoulder.

"Be careful. Please?"

"Don't worry, Lucius. I won't get hurt."

…

Nolan sat in the sand watching a silvery giraffe canter along the moon-drenched shore.

"Your patronus would be a giraffe," Voldemort commented as he sat beside Nolan.

"Of course," Nolan chuckled. "What else would it be? What about you? What shape does yours take?"

"Don't know," Voldemort admitted. "Never cast one."

"Really?" Nolan asked in disbelief. "Well, no time like the present. Try it. Think happy thoughts."

Voldemort sighed and pulled out his wand. He closed his eyes for a moment, as though concentrating hard, and softly said the incantation. He gasped in shock as the silver light took the form of a basilisk. The large serpent slithered towards the giraffe, which playfully pawed at the newcomer.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Nolan teased. "That's a hell of a patronus for a first try. What did you think about?"

"You," Voldemort admitted sheepishly.

"Really?" Nolan asked, blushing slightly.

"What else would I think of?" Voldemort inquired. "To be honest, I've never had a memory powerful enough to conjure a patronus."

"That's very sad," Nolan admitted, taking Voldemort's hand.

The Dark Lord began to fidget nervously.

"I…I suppose I've never been truly happy until I met you."

Voldemort ran his hand through his hair and scrunched up his brow, clearly thinking hard about something. He looked at Nolan, his blue eyes locking with green.

"Nolan, I love you."

His pale skin immediately flushed red and he looked away.

"I wondered how long it would take you to say it," Nolan laughed.

"You know I'm not good with feelings," Voldemort said.

"I know," Nolan confirmed. "But I still love you."

Nolan pulled Voldemort to him, crushing their lips together. The couple fell back into the sand and made love in the light of their fading patronuses.


	5. Late-Night News Flash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't realized until just now that this chapter wasn't up. It's been on ff.net since December.

Nolan was awakened by the touch of lips on his Dark Mark. He grumbled and pulled a pillow over his head.

                “Come now, Nolan,” Voldemort cooed. “I don’t appreciate being woken in the middle of the night, either, but Severus is here and claims he’s got important information.”

                Nolan groaned and got out of bed, shivering as the cool air touched his bare skin. He heard the rain beating against the windows as he hurriedly dressed. Snape was standing in the foyer, soaking wet and shivering.

                “I’m sorry to wake you like this, my Lords,” he said. “But I knew you’d want to hear this.”

                Nolan grimaced at the title, especially coming from a long-time friend. After the nature of his relationship with the Dark Lord had been ousted by Bellatrix, Voldemort had declared that Nolan should be given the same amount of respect as was given to him. In response to this declaration, the Death Eaters began referring to Nolan as a second Dark Lord. A few had been punished for daring to call him “the Dark Lady” when they thought no one could hear them. Four years later, Nolan had yet to adjust to the title. He didn’t see himself as a leader-Voldemort was the brains of the operation. Nolan was merely there to lend support and occasionally rein him in when his temper got the best of him. There was a time when he was the Dark Lord’s first choice for important tasks, but since he’d taken Nolan as a lover he preferred to keep the Animagus at his side as opposed to on the front lines. At times he felt as though he’d become worthless, pampered and spoiled like a fat house cat, but all he had to do was catch the Dark Lord’s eye to know differently. Nolan was truly a unique person, simply because he had to do absolutely nothing to earn Voldemort’s approval.

                The pair ushered Snape into the drawing room. Voldemort conjured a fire in the hearth and Nolan sent Rambler to fetch a towel and some tea.

                “Now, Severus,” Voldemort began as the house elf scurried away, his duties complete. “What was so important that you had to drag Nolan and myself out of bed on such a dismal night as this?”

                “Forgive me, my Lords,” Snape apologized again, nervously playing with the edge of the towel. “I happened to overhear a rather…unsettling bit of information in the Hog’s Head.”

                Voldemort sat up a little straighter and Nolan’s heart shot into his throat.

                “They haven’t found us, have they?” Nolan asked, trying to hide his panic.

                Voldemort placed a pale hand on Nolan’s knee and squeezed gently.

                “No, no,” Snape reassured. “Nothing like that. A prophecy was given to Dumbledore.”

                “And?” Voldemort prompted.

                “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.”

                Nolan inadvertently dropped the mug of tea he’d been holding. This wasn’t possible. They were untouchable!

                “Who is it?” Voldemort demanded. “Who do they say has such power?”

                “No name was given, just that they’d be born at the end of July to those who thrice defied you,” Snape continued nervously.

                Voldemort turned to Nolan and held out his hand. Nolan, immediately recognizing the gesture, held out his left arm. A long pale finger was placed upon his Dark Mark and he hissed as it began to burn. Minutes later, the rest of the Death Eaters were assembled in the dining room looking bedraggled and half asleep.

                “I myself don’t appreciate being pulled out of bed on such a dismal night and I know none of you do either so let’s make this quick,” Voldemort said. “I’ve received some rather unpleasant news this evening. Severus overheard a prophecy. This July, a child will be born, a child who will rise to defeat me some day. It continues to say that the parents have thrice defied me. We need information. Concentrate on the Order of the Phoenix. Are there any pregnant members? Lucius!”

                “My Lord?” he replied, looking slightly startled at having been addressed.

                “Your wife is pregnant is she not?”

                “Y-yes, my Lord. Due in June.”

                Nolan smiled warmly at his friend from across the table. Lucius had yet to disclose this information to anyone and was clearly surprised that the Dark Lord knew.

                “Excellent!” Voldemort exclaimed. “She will no doubt be in contact with other pregnant witches during the coming months. Have her keep an eye open.”

                “I will, sir,” Lucius agreed, seemingly a bit reluctantly.

                “The rest of you, be alert. If you hear anything, even rumors, you report to either Nolan or myself.”

                With that Voldemort rose from his seat, signaling that the others were free to go. Nolan hung back to approach Lucius.

                “I believe congratulations are in order,” he said.

                “Thank you, Nolan,” Lucius said. “I’d hoped to tell you myself.”

                “That’s V for you,” Nolan smirked. “Loves to spoil surprises.”

                Behind Lucius, Voldemort raised an eyebrow at Nolan from the doorway, a slight scowl on his face.

                “Don’t give me that look!” Nolan scolded playfully, putting his hands on his hips. “You know you do.”

                “I hate surprises,” Voldemort sneered.

                “Well, it’s late,” Lucius said nervously. “I think I’ll be heading home now.”

                “Goodnight, Lucius,” Nolan called.

                Lucius gave a slight nod before disapparating.

…

                “Your hands are shaking,” Voldemort observed, taking the appendages in question into his own.

                The couple had returned to bed, the evening’s events still hovering over them. Nolan sighed heavily.

                “It’s just, I don’t like thinking about you dying,” Nolan admitted. “I know there’s a constant threat to your life, but having someone tell you that a very specific person will be the one to end it. That terrifies me.”

                “No need to worry,” Voldemort reassured, pulling Nolan closer. “We’ll end this before it gets serious. Hell, we’re up against a baby after all. Besides, I’m practically immortal.”

                Nolan looked at his lover inquisitively.

                “What do you mean?”

                “Let’s just say I’ve got certain…safeguards in place,” Voldemort responded cryptically.

                Nolan continued to stare at him, his curiosity unsatisfied.

                “That’s a story for a different day, my love,” he said. “It’s late. Sleep.”

                Nolan lay awake for a bit, his mind in a frenzy.

                _Stop it!_ He told himself. _You’re being ridiculous! Like V said, it’s just a baby._

                His troubles subdued for the moment, he drifted off to sleep. 


	6. Tension Rising

Voldemort was growing more irritable as the days wore on. It was early August; the July deadline had come and gone. He sat seething at the head of the table, the gathered Death Eaters clearly terrified.

                “Does anyone have anything new to report?” the Dark Lord asked through his teeth.

                There was silence, everyone trying desperately to avoid the Dark Lord’s gaze.

                “Well?”

                Silence prevailed.

                “You’re all worthless,” he sneered. “Absolutely fucking worthless!”

                He snapped, jumping to his feet and pointing his wand at the nearest person. An unlucky Snape was thrown from his chair, writhing in pain as Voldemort kept him locked in a Cruciatus curse.

                “V, stop,” Nolan said calmly. “He hasn’t done anything.”

                The Dark Lord shot him a nasty look, but continued.

                “You’re being unreasonable!” Nolan said with more force. “Stop!”

                “Fuck off, Nolan,” he spat without looking at him.

                Nolan snorted, half in anger and half in shock. He stood and forcefully took ahold of Voldemort’s arm, breaking his concentration and ending the spell.

                “I said stop,” Nolan repeated, bringing his face close to Voldemort’s.

                A stunned silence fell over the room. Those in attendance sat wide-eyed at Nolan’s sudden boldness. Everyone suddenly seemed to realize that he stood a few inches taller than the Dark Lord, who was looking up at his lover with a mix of shock, fury, and something else that looked familiar, but no one could quite name in the moment.

                Voldemort pulled back a bit, a smirk on his handsome face.

                “Oh, Nolan,” he practically purred. “I do love it when you try to act… _dominant._ ”

                Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably as they collectively recognized that third emotion as lust.

                “Need I remind who runs this operation,” Voldemort said softly.             

                Before Nolan had a moment to grasp his meaning, Voldemort had pulled his arm free and bent him over the table. A palpable feeling of discomfort settled over the room. The Death Eaters froze, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. It was obviously common knowledge that Nolan and the Dark Lord were romantically involved, but no one really liked to think about what _exactly_ that involved. Even confronted with such a situation, those assembled were still torn on their course of action. They hadn’t been dismissed and leaving without Voldemort’s approval was a punishable offense. At the same time, none wished to witness what was rapidly unfolding before them and knew how Voldemort felt about people meddling in his personal affairs, especially when it came to Nolan. The sound of Nolan’s belt buckle banging off the wooden floor seemed to be the breaking point for many. There was a synchronized and hurried sound of chairs scraping against the floor as people made for the door. Some stood, still unsure of their course of action, but quickly followed the others when a grunt from Nolan indicated that the act was underway.

                The pair seemed oblivious to the actions of the others. Nolan braced himself against the large table, his head hanging between his arms. He closed his eyes, waiting for Voldemort to finish venting his frustration. This rough, primal coupling had become commonplace in recent weeks. Upon finishing, Voldemort readjusted his clothing and left without a word, casting a sideways glance at Lucius, who was nervously shuffling around the manor’s entryway. Nolan collected himself and left the dining room.

                “Are you alright?” Lucius asked, putting a hand on Nolan’s shoulder.

                “I’m fine,” he reassured. “Really, I am. Nothing I can’t handle.”

                “Well, if you’re sure,” Lucius said, obviously wishing to press the issue, but deciding against it.

                “How’s my godson?” Nolan asked, changing the subject.

                “Oh, Draco’s very well,” Lucius said, beaming at the mention of his son.

                He took a photo out of his robes. Nolan smiled at the blonde baby, who waved his pudgy fists towards the camera.

                “He looks more like you every day,” Nolan said. “He’s a handsome little boy.”

                “Thank you,” Lucius said.

                “Send my love to little Draco and Narcissa,” Nolan told him,

                “You have my word,” Lucius said. “And please take care of yourself.”

                “I’m fine, Lucius,” Nolan reiterated. “Trust me on this. No one can handle the Dark Lord’s temper as well as I can.”

                Lucius nodded, squeezing his shoulder briefly before disapparating.

…

                Nolan sat in the drawing room later that evening, a recent copy of the Daily Prophet opened before him. Reports of more deaths, clearly the work of the other Death Eaters. No sign of the Dark Lord or Nolan Blackwell, but the aurors are working tirelessly to find them. Nolan chuckled softly. He felt his hair pulled back and lips brushed his ear. He tilted his head back to look at Voldemort.

                “Seeking forgiveness?” Nolan asked, lifting an eyebrow.

                Voldemort just sighed. He’d never admit he was sorry, even if he was.

                “I’ll take that as a yes,” Nolan huffed and kissed the dark-haired man.

                Voldemort walked around the sofa to stare into the cold ashes in the fireplace.

                “I can’t let them think I’ve grown soft,” he said without looking at Nolan. “You know what they say when they think we aren’t listening.”

                Nolan sighed. He knew all too well the others thought that perhaps the Dark Lord was losing his edge and it was because of his relationship with Nolan.

                “I understand, but sometimes…”

                Nolan abruptly stopped speaking.

                “Nolan?” Voldemort asked. “Sometimes what?”

                He turned to see Nolan gaping wide-eyed at the newspaper.

                “What?”

                “It’s right here,” Nolan sputtered. “Why didn’t we think to look here?!”

                “Look at what, Nolan? Goddammit, what is it?”

                “Birth announcements,” he said, pointing at the page. “We’ve been looking for information for nearly a year and here it is in black and white.”

                “What does it say?” Voldemort demanded.

                “Well, let’s see. The Longbottoms had a boy on the 30th. They’re in the Order and have been quite a nuisance for years.”

                “Hmm, yes,” Voldemort said.” I suppose they have.”

                “Ah! And the Potters had a boy on the 31st.”

                “Yes,” Voldemort sneered. “The Potters.”

                “You think it’s them?” Nolan asked.

                “Certain,” Voldemort said, a cruel smile playing across his lips.

…

                “What do you mean, they’ve disappeared?!” Voldemort howled at the assembled Death Eaters, throwing a nearby vase across the room. “Find them! I don’t care who you have to torture or kill, you find the Potters!”

                Nolan stood and put a firm hand on the Dark Lord’s shoulder.

                “We’ll find them,” he whispered encouragingly in his ear. “I promise, we’ll find them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So lately I suck epically at updating. Trying to work on that. Also, prepare your anus. You know what’s coming in the next chapter…


	7. Darkness Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fateful night has arrived at last!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, it’s been a long time. Life just gets in the way. I’ve been out of college for two years and some change. I work full time at a rather exhausting job and haven’t been doing much writing in my spare time, especially now that I live with my boyfriend of three years. He knows that this story exists and teases me about “the gay Voldemort story” from time to time, but doesn’t know I still work on it. It’s our little secret…  
> A lot of things have happened in the Potterverse since I’ve been away. Fantastic Beasts is in theaters, giving us a prequel of sorts and a glimpse at Voldy’s Dark Lord predecessor, Johnny De…I mean, Grindlewald. More importantly, The Cursed Child is now a thing, for whatever it’s worth. Being this idea was conceived long before Delphi, she won’t be making an appearance…

Fall came, slowly robbing the leaves of their vibrant green color. The wind had developed a bit of a chill, whispering of the cold winter to come. Over a year had passed since Voldemort had targeted the Potters, believing their only son to be the subject of a prophecy, the one destined to bring about the Dark Lord’s downfall. Soon after, the family had disappeared. Voldemort strongly suspected a Fidelus Charm was at work. They’d tried in vain to locate the Secret Keeper.

                “It’s got to be Sirius Black,” Nolan sneered. “He and Potter were inseparable in school.”

                Black turned out to be a difficult man to track down. Voldemort’s frustrations mounted. The Death Eaters, with the exception of Nolan, tended to give him a wide berth, avoiding him unless absolutely necessary.

                “We’ll find him,” Nolan reassured after another fruitless meeting. “He’s just a baby. He can’t pose much of a threat just yet. We have time.”

                “We have to take him out as soon as possible, Nolan!” Voldemort snarled. “There’s no telling what could happen if we wait.”

                Nolan sighed. There was no point in arguing. Voldemort wasn’t a man you could reason with.

…

                It was early afternoon on Halloween. The holiday had always been a favorite of Nolan’s. He was sitting on the patio behind the manor, effortlessly carving sinister faces into pumpkins with his wand.

                “We’ll have to light them once it gets dark,” Voldemort said, standing in the doorway. “They’re quite frightening.”

                He smiled weakly, coming across the concrete to sit beside Nolan. His frustration with his current predicament had not lessened, but seeing the childish joy on Nolan’s face kept his anger at bay for the moment.

                “You do one,” Nolan suggested, motioning towards an untouched pumpkin nearby.

                Voldemort shrugged and took out his wand, aiming it at the pumpkin. He wasn’t quite as skilled as Nolan and the face he produced was simple and rather lopsided. Nolan chuckled.

                “What?” Voldemort exclaimed. “We can’t all be good at this!”

                Nolan laughed harder. Voldemort raised his eyebrows. He flicked his wand at some nearby pumpkin innards, sending them flying towards Nolan. The orange goo splattered the side of his face. He stopped for a moment, wiping some of the mess away before laughing even harder. He scooped up more of the pulpy mess and threw it at his companion. Voldemort couldn’t help it. He laughed along with Nolan as the pair of them sat amongst the Jack o’ Lanterns, covered in their innards.

                “Excuse me, sirs.”

                The pair jumped. Rambler, the Blackwell family’s house elf, stood in the doorway.

                “What is it, Rambler?” Nolan demanded, standing up and spelling the muck off of his face and robes.

                “A Peter Pettigrew to see you, sirs,” Rambler answered.

                “Who?” Voldemort asked, looking confused.

                “Peter Pettigrew, love,” Nolan repeated, “Watery eyed little fellow. Fairly recent addition. Spies on the Order.”

                “Oh, yes,” Voldemort said dismissively.

                “That will be all, Rambler,” Nolan commanded as he followed Voldemort into the house.

                Rambler bowed low and retreated towards the kitchens. Pettigrew stood in the entryway, fidgeting around nervously. Nolan beckoned him into the sitting room, where he avoided the gaze of the Dark wizards sitting across from him.

                “Well, spit it out then!” Voldemort shouted. “What is it?”

                “T-the Potters, sir,” Pettigrew stammered. “They’re in Godric’s Hollow.”

                Voldemort’s eyes widened. Nolan’s breath caught in his throat.

                “Come again?” Voldemort pressed.

                “”They’re in Godric’s Hollow,” Pettigrew repeated. “James Potter and I are old school mates. They made me their Secret Keeper.”

                “I thought for sure it would be Sirius Black,” Nolan replied.

                “That was their first choice, but he thought it would be too obvious,” Pettigrew clarified.

                “They were right, weren’t they?” Nolan confirmed, “But it does seem that they put their faith in the wrong person, eh?”

                “Lucky for us,” Voldemort was positively beaming. “Thank you, Peter, is it? You will be justly rewarded for this information.”

                “T-thank you, my Lord!” he stuttered, looking slightly less nervous.

…

                The Death Eaters were assembled within hours. A buzz of excitement hung over the crowd.

                “We found them!” Voldemort practically sang. “In Godric’s Hollow!”

                “How can you be so certain, my Lord?” Bellatrix asked. “We’ve been looking for months and suddenly you’ve found them?”

                Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

                “You’re lucky I’m in such a forgiving mood, Bella. Watch your tone.”

                Bellatrix shoulders drooped and she sank slightly into her seat.

                “Now, I’ll need the lot of you to distract the Order while Nolan and I go after the Potters. Use whatever means necessary. I can have no unwanted interruptions. Off you go!”

                As their followers Disapparated, Voldemort turned to Nolan.

                “After tonight, the world is ours, love.”

                Nolan smiled weakly. He’d had a sinking feeling all evening, since Pettigrew had come with the news.

…

               The temperature had dropped with the setting sun. It had rained earlier in the day and a fine mist swirled around the hems of their cloaks as they stood on the cobblestones across the street from the Potter’s home. A light was on in an upstairs window. A young redheaded woman could be seen, holding a dozing baby against her shoulder. She knelt, putting the child into an out of sight crib. She stood for a moment, smiling down at her sleeping son, before extinguishing the light and exiting the room. She reappeared downstairs and took a seat on the sofa next to a dark-haired, bespectacled man. A fluffy orange cat leapt into her lap. She laughed at something her husband said.

              “Touching,” Voldemort sneered from within his hood. “Almost seems a shame to break up such a lovely family.”

              “Spare the Mudblood if you can,” Nolan said. “Severus has a soft spot for her. Ever since our school days.”

              “Tut tut, Severus,” Voldemort chuckled. “A Mudblood? No promises, dearest.”

              Voldemort extended his hand to Nolan. Nolan took it, relishing in the reassuring feeling of the long, cool fingers around his own. They exchanged a lingering kiss.

              “Shall we?” Voldemort inquired.

              “After you.”

              They strode across the street hand in hand, only breaking contact when Voldemort blasted in the door. The cat yowled, taking off across the living room.

              “Lily, go to Harry!” James shouted.

              Lily darted up the stairs, casting a final glance at her husband as she went.

              “Go!” Nolan said, drawing his wand. “I’ll take care of him!”

              “That’s why I love you!” Voldemort shouted, smiling fiercely at Nolan as he took off after his target.

              “How did you find us?” James demanded.

              “You put your faith in the wrong person, Potter,” Nolan smirked. “He’s been working for us the entire time.”

              “Peter?!” The shock on his face was delicious. “He’s our friend!”

              “Not a very good one, eh?” Nolan replied. “Friends don’t rat out friends to their enemies, do they? Maybe you should’ve put your faith in Black after all?”

              James raised his wand, but Nolan was faster. In a blast of green light, James Potter was thrown against the far wall, knocking the smiling photos of his family to the floor in a rain of shattered glass. The glittering fragments covered him as he lay still amongst the wreckage. His work complete, Nolan disappeared up the stairs. He turned the corner to the nursery. Lily Potter lay in a heap me before the crib. The child, Harry, sat awake, eerily calm, wide green eyes locked on the man before him.

              “She wouldn’t yield, Nolan,” Voldemort said, “My apologies to Severus. I gave her the option to leave with her life, but she wouldn’t abandon her whelp. No great lose.”

              Voldemort turned to the baby, who had begun to whimper.

              “Now, now, little one. You’ll be with them again soon enough.”

              He raised his wand. The next few moments seemed to pass in agonizing slow motion. The sinister green light burst forth from the tip of the wand, bathing the scene in its sickly glow. Triumph shone on Voldemort’s face. But something was wrong. The look of triumph dissolved into shock as the light rebounded off the child. The cloaked figure was lifted off the ground. The light pulsed into a blinding brilliance before blinking out altogether. The house shook as part of the roof and wall was blasted apart, scattering rubble into the yard below. Voldemort’s robes collapsed into a heap of dark fabric, devoid of their occupant. His wand thumped down atop them.

              Nolan stood frozen in the doorway. The world was spinning. The only sound he heard was the rapid rush of blood as his heart beat out of control. Slowly, the spinning stopped and the world crept back into focus. The rushing blood was replaced with the frightened shrieking of the baby, very much alive, but bleeding from a cut on his forehead. Nolan added his own scream to the mix. He took several staggered steps into the room and collapsed before the empty robes, gathering them to his body and holding them to his face. He continued to scream, competing for volume with the squalling child. A pair of footstep thundered up the stairs. Severus Snape failed to stifle a quiet sob at the sight of Lily Potter’s corpse.

              “Nolan, what happened?” Lucius Malfoy asked, rushing to kneel beside his hysterical friend, oblivious to the dead woman. “Where is the Dark Lord? Why does the child live?”

              “I, I, I don’t know what happened!” Nolan sobbed. “He cast the spell and it rebounded. Can that even happen? How can this be?!”

              He collapsed into sobs against the blonde man, the robes still clutched in his fists. Lucius looked up to Severus, who was standing in the door looking paler than usual. He just shook his head, unable to form words.

              “We have to go!” Lucius said. “This place will be swarming with Aurors any minute!”

              Severus nodded slowly, unable to take is eyes off the dead woman.

              “Come, Nolan,” Lucius said softly, pulling his friend to his feet.

              They Disapparated together, leaving Severus in the doorway. He collapsed in tears, pulling the cooling body of Lily Potter to his chest and ignoring her screaming son. He heard the distant roar of a motor coming closer. He stood, giving the body of his beloved a final glance before Disapparating as well.

…

              Nolan and Lucius Apparated into the entryway of Malfoy Manor. Narcissa Malfoy hurried down the stairs in her dressing gown.

              “Oh thank goodness,” she sighed, throwing her arms around Lucius. “Bella was captured along with the Lestrange brothers and Barty Crouch Jr. I was so worried they’d got you, too.”

              “The Dark Lord has fallen,” Lucius said grimly.

              “What?!” she gasped, her eyes widening. “Oh, Nolan.”

              She turned to Nolan, who was practically dissolving into a puddle on the rug.

              “Come on, then,” she said comfortingly. “Let’s go to the sitting room.”

              She put a gentle hand on the weeping man’s shoulder. He stood and followed her.

              “Dobby!” Narcissa called out.

              A house elf appeared, rubbing his eyes as though just awakened from sleep.

              “Yes, mistress?” he yawned.

              “Put some tea on!”

              “Right away, mistress!”

              The elf disappeared, reappearing several minutes later with a teapot and several mugs.

              “What now?” Narcissa asked, looking from her husband to his friend.

              “I must go into hiding,” Nolan said hoarsely, holding the steaming mug without drinking from it.

              “Nolan, stay here,” Lucius replied. “I insist. I can’t bear to think of you alone in this state!”

              “You always were a good friend, Lucius, but I can’t,” Nolan smiled weakly. “They’ll come looking for me and I can’t jeopardize your family. Your son needs you.”

              His eyes wandered to a portrait of the blonde baby over the mantle.

              “Where will you go?” Lucius insisted. “Back to Sirenum Scopuli?”

              “No. Though well-hidden, it holds too many memories,” he sighed. “His very essence clings to every stone, every fiber. And who’s to say the Aurors won’t find it now that they’ve caught some of our ranks. Tongues can be easily loosened, as you know. I’ve become the most wanted man in all of Europe, perhaps the world.”

              “Where will you go then?”

              “I’ll think of something.”

              Nolan placed the mug on the table. He stood and Lucius followed suite. The two men embraced.

              “Good luck, my friend,” Lucius said. “Take care of yourself, wherever you end up.”

              “We’ll meet again someday,” Nolan reassured. “Take care of your family, Lucius.”

               With a final smile, Nolan Blackwell disappeared from the wizarding world.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
